


Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters

by huddleofneurons



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:52:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3368546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huddleofneurons/pseuds/huddleofneurons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla AU, loosely based on the film "You've Got Mail." (Or, what happens when Laura and Carmilla become pen pals online yet despise each other in real life. It's the epistolary Hollstein romance you probably neither wanted nor deserved.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like the perfect paramour you were in your letters

Laura Hollis wasn’t a morning person, per se, but greeting the day did have its advantages. There was her first sip of cocoa, its embrace delightfully warm and sugary. The faint, almost-musical creaking of her steps on the hardwood floors of her apartment. The familiar purr of her ancient laptop as it clambered to life.

And the rising tide of anticipation when a message from ‘mk307’ appeared in her inbox.

When they’d met (while Laura was tipsy, no less) on a now-defunct ‘ _Chat with a stranger!_ ’ website nearly three months prior, Laura hadn’t been sure what to expect – unsolicited nudes? uncouth profanities? someone to talk to? – but out of all the strangers on that corner of the internet, she’d found mk307. She had been about to spill personal details when her subconscious conjured the image of her ever-wary father giving her an unsolicited lecture about not getting kidnapped six ways to Sunday, so instead she’d laid the ground rules they were to follow: no names and no personal details. Surprisingly, mk307 had acquiesced, and they’d struck an unusual friendship over their weeks of correspondence.

Laura didn’t hesitate before typing out a message of her own. They always seemed to come from no place in particular, as if she was not beginning a conversation anew so much as continuing an old, stray thread. She liked that.

 **_To:_** _mk307_

 **_From:_** _Blygirl_

 **_Subject:_** _Good morning_

_Dear friend,_

_Yesterday morning I saw a girl on the subway with about half the public library stuffed into her bag and it reminded me of you. For some reason, it makes me happy whenever I see people reading during their commute. (Even if they’re trashy vampire novels!) If I had your name and address, I would send you the oldest, most charming book I could think of. I know you’d appreciate that._

_I have something to confess: sometimes when I’m riding to work, I make up stories about my fellow passengers. It’s something my mom and I used to do when I was small. Yesterday, there was a man in tweed whom I was convinced was on his way to an antique shop to sell his mother’s pearl necklace to feed his addiction to vinyl records and mustache wax. Or the elderly woman bundled up in so many layers that I must assume it is only her ruse to hide the full-sleeve tattoos and punk rock t-shirt hiding underneath._

_…I wonder what you’d think of me._

All throughout her morning commute, she’d refreshed her inbox to no avail. (Perhaps mk307 was a night owl?) She hardly spared a glance at the bodies around her until she felt a tap on her shoulder – but it was only LaFontaine, her favorite co-worker at the newspaper.

“Earth to Hollis!” LaFontaine exclaimed, grinning broadly as they assumed a nearby handrail. This morning, they donned solar system suspenders, looking not unlike the lovechild of Ms. Frizzle and Bill Nye the Science Guy.

Laura quickly shoved her phone into her coat pocket. “LaFontaine, for all I know, you could have been one of those subway assailants they’re always talking about on the news.”

“Don’t tell me you seriously believe those e-mails your dad sends you. They’re ridiculous.”

“You’re not the one that received an entire crate of bear spray last week because it just so happens that a black bear was spotted somewhere in the vicinity of Manhattan,” Laura replies with a huff. 

“That’s kind of awesome, though, not gonna lie.”

Laura moves toward the open doors. “Why? You got any bears that need taking care of?”

The office was only half-full by the time they arrived, but there was already a chocolate chip muffin waiting on Laura’s desk, courtesy of the sports correspondent, Brody Kirsch. When LaFontaine quirked an eyebrow in her general direction, Laura simply shrugged. Everyone knew that grammar wasn’t Kirsch’s ‘thing’ – but it _was_ Laura’s. The baked goods were just a perk, and besides, Kirsch only ever had eyes for S.J., the resident celebrity gossip hound. It was almost cute, if you didn’t count the number of times Kirsch got berated for mixing up his Kardashians.

Laura was halfway through editing an article she’d written about some recent housing protests when a notification popped up on her screen: mk307 had replied to her e-mail. She tried to think of a reason to delay her gratification. (Perry, her editor, threatening her dismissal for failing to meet her deadline, leaving her with no choice but to panhandle on the street – wait, that was ridiculous.) The staff meeting – and her deadline – would have to wait a moment longer.

**_To:_** _Blygirl_

**_From:_** _mk307_

**_Subject:_** _re: Good morning_

_Readers of trashy vampire novels should rest assured that I do not often use public transportation. (Although, when I do, my ears are almost always unluckily assailed by some tone-deaf hippie who fancies himself a musician – why is that?) I bet I would find you charming, however._

_This morning as I walked to work I witnessed a rather spirited argument between two people dressed as a slice of pizza and the Statue of Liberty, respectively. There were colored flyers everywhere and it reminded me – for a moment – of the ticker-tape parades my father would take me to when I was a girl. Nostalgia is a powerful drug._

Laura was in the midst of typing a reply when LaFontaine walked by, curious expression in tow. “Staff meeting, anyone?” Someone several cubicles away groaned. Ever since their promotion to science writer, LaFontaine’s enthusiasm had been… substantial? (Some might say nauseating. But Laura wouldn’t.) 

“I didn’t know the housing protests were that engrossing,” LaFontaine remarked as they walked to the conference room.

“Well, you know – justice, equality, all that good stuff. Really gets a girl going in the morning.”

“Sure thing, Hollis,” came their reply as they squeezed into the last remaining seats.

At the front of the room was Lola Perry, deputy editor-in-chief of _Silas Weekly_ , the second-least profitable publication in the entire city. (But certainly the most spirited, in Laura’s opinion.) Usually, Laura deigned to give Perry at least some attention while she doled out the various assignments for the week, but this morning, her mind was chasing ticker-tape parades and sidewalk scuffles.

Until, that is, the subject of Carmilla Karnstein emerged. A collective hush befell the room, and even Perry’s usually unflappable demeanor seemed to crack. Her fingers twitched around the projector remote.

“For those of you who are unfamiliar, Ms. Karnstein is heir-apparent to a rather _extensive_ media empire—”

“Single-handedly doing its best to ensure the demise of quality journalism,” Laura interrupted hotly. There were murmurs of approval from her colleagues.

“And let’s not forget her tabloid exploits as New York’s most infamous ladykiller!” S.J. added.

“Ahem, I’d thank you all to refrain from any _colorful_ commentary on the subject. As it stands, Ms. Karnstein has requested an exclusive interview with _Silas Weekly_. If last month’s readership statistics are any indication, we are in no position to deny Ms. Karnstein anything. In light of Betty’s recent leave of absence from this publication, I’m assigning the interview to Laura.” 

Laura hardly even noticed when LaFontaine clasped her shoulder and whispered their congratulations. As her colleagues sullenly filed out – their muted reception some indication that this was a coveted assignment, though Laura hardly knew why – Laura heard Perry’s throat clear conspicuously.

When they were alone, Perry’s expression softened. “Look, Laura, I know you mustn’t be pleased about the Karnstein interview.”

Laura’s gaze fell to the ground, where Perry’s impeccably shiny heels faced her tarnished oxfords. “If you don’t mind me asking, then why’d you give me the assignment? Anyone else would have jumped at the chance to hobnob with the likes of Carmilla Karnstein.”

“Precisely!” Perry’s voice was clarion clear, and its enthusiasm reminded Laura exactly why she’d come to work for _Silas Weekly_ in the first place. “I trust you enough to know you’ll be… fair.”

With that, Laura was ushered to her desk, where a dark-haired woman clad in black sat in her desk chair, munching on the cookies that had formerly resided in Laura’s bottom desk drawer. The woman regarded her lazily at first, but as she appraised Laura her delicate features contorted in a smirk.

“What the hell are you doing in _my_ chair, at _my_ desk, eating _my_ cookies?”

Then she _smiled_. “I’m your new assignment, sweetheart.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Title borrowed from "Make You Better" by The Decemberists. You can also find me at "huddleofneurons" on Tumblr!


End file.
